


blush and duck out of frame

by cupcakeb



Category: Elite (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hollywood, F/M, Lu is a former Disney starlet looking to make it in the real world, This is basically a Carla&Lu BFF AU honestly, Valerio is just famous for no reason (he's hot), also Omar&Lu because why not, spoiler alert: they're not related
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29263455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupcakeb/pseuds/cupcakeb
Summary: She’s an adult. You can’t be an adult on a Disney show, and when they wrapped filming last summer, shortly after her twenty-first birthday, she decided enough was enough.Maybe the risky HBO drama will get people to stop thinking of her as the feisty teenage Disney witch with anger management issues. Leaving that behind would be a hell of a lot easier if her new co-star wasn't such an insufferable asshole.
Relationships: Lucrecia "Lu" Montesinos Hendrich/Valerio Montesinos Hendrich
Comments: 14
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

There aren’t enough words in the English language to describe how much she hates night shoots. Even after almost a decade in the business, she isn’t gonna get used to them anytime soon.

She’s shooting a guest spot on one of the big network crime shows. She’s young enough to play eighteen, and predictably the fact that she looks vaguely Hispanic is a plot point in the episode, and Lu hates that more than she does night shoots. Being typecast is the absolute worst.

This is all part of the strategy she and her agent came up with. At 22, Lu is ready for bigger and better things. Some might say she peaked at fifteen when her vaguely Latin but still totally all-American Disney show about singing witches got picked up for three seasons before it even premiered, but she wants more and she wants it _now_. She’ll always be grateful for the career boost Witchiñera gave her — it’s just time to move on before she loses any buzz her exit from the show may have generated for her.

She’s an adult. You can’t be an adult on a Disney show, and when they wrapped filming last summer, shortly after her twenty-first birthday, she decided enough was enough. It’s been audition after audition, guest roles and two-day shoots on various semi-popular TV shows ever since. It’s not like she’s hurting for money, so she can absolutely afford to pick and choose, but there hasn’t been a lot to pick from as of late.

The director comes over and talks to her about channeling her inner Latina — dear fucking god, Lu is about to barf — and she manages a tightlipped smile instead of telling him to stop playing with stupid racist stereotypes. She’s already been branded the Disney girl; she can’t afford to be known for being difficult to work with, too.

The entire premise of her scene is absolutely ridiculous. She isn’t sure why her character is so scantily clad as she sneaks out of her parents’ house in the middle of the night, but she thinks she does okay with the scene. There isn’t a ton of acting ability required to scream convincingly as a nighttime attacker holds a huge flashlight in her face. She’s got a few lines to exchange with the perpetrator, and she nails those if she does say so herself.

“Cut,” the director yells after she’s been tackled to the ground and dragged into the bushes successfully. God, what did she get herself into by agreeing to all this? “Nice work, Lucrecia,” he over-exaggerates the C sound in her name like every single wannabe culturally sensitive American she’s ever met. Lu instinctively knows what’s about to happen. “Let’s do a take with an accent. You can do one, right, señorita?”

No amount of coffee in the world will ever be able to replicate the way the anger instantly wakes her the fuck up.

“With all due respect, David, I don’t see why she’d have an accent. She was born in New York. Are you sure this is strictly necessary?”

What she’s really doing is calling him a big fucking racist, and he probably knows it, too. Whatever. She’ll do anything to keep from making this kidnapping plot more cliche. She’s doing him a favor if you will. Even CSI or NCIS or whatever this format is called must have its standards.

David glances at her, then nods slowly. “Let’s do that again,” he says and looks at her co-star in the mysterious kidnapping get up — he’s dressed in black from head to toe. “Try to kiss her this time.”

Lu is literally going to strangle them all.

***

“It’s a long shot.”

“What, you don’t think I’ll get it?”

Lu is pacing back and forth around Nadia’s 7th Avenue office. She wouldn’t normally fight her agent on something like script selection, because she trusts Nadia, but this one is different.

It’s an HBO production, first of all. Real adult TV. The script for the pilot read like a mildly drug-fueled panic dream, and Lu hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. She hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the character she was born to play.

(Yes, she’s dramatic. She’s an actress. It comes with the territory.)

The show is set in Chicago and follows a group of wealthy 20-somethings as they navigate the ins and outs of adolescence, unrealistic parental expectations and, well, sex. It’s HBO. Of course there are graphic sex scenes. Lu thinks it may be just what she needs to get her career back on track.  
  
That’ll get people to stop thinking of her as the feisty teenage Disney witch with anger management issues.  
  
“I wanna tape an audition,” she tells Nadia, crossing her arms in front of her chest. When Nadia opens her mouth to speak, she shushes her. “Don’t. I know I need to be selective. This is what I want.”

Nadia is only ten years older than her, and she’s been repping her for the past eight years. It’s a match made in heaven — Nadia will fight to get Lu the best possible deals, but she’s diplomatic enough to not burn bridges doing it. Where Lu is hotheaded and passionate, Nadia is more strategic. They make a pretty great team.

“Are you sure you’re ready for an HBO show?”

She’d never outright say she’s concerned about Lu doing partial nudity, but that’s clearly what’s causing all of this pushback from Nadia. Of course she’s considered that; she’s pretty sure she can handle having strangers ogle her on the internet. People have been saying disgusting things about her body ever since she was a prepubescent teen — this feels a little like taking back control of the narrative. Besides, she’s in the prime of her life — her boobs are literally never gonna look this good again. Why the hell not?!

“Let’s worry about that when I get the part.”

When not if. Lu isn’t gonna sabotage herself by using vague language. Words need to be purposeful.

She does two takes of the requested audition scene before they call it a day. In it, her character Alicia attends a fancy party, gets sufficiently drunk and — after an unpleasant encounter with her ex-boyfriend — decides to jump up on stage for an impromptu speech exposing absolutely everyone in attendance. Probably not exactly something she should be proud to admit, but Lu sees herself in that so much it hurts.

Nadia sends an email to the casting director, then looks over at Lu and grins.

“They better fly you out for a screen test.”

Now that’s the sort of optimism she was looking for.

***

New York has been home for the past year or so, ever since they wrapped production for Disney. She’s a city girl through and through, and her parents’ mansion in Calabasas was starting to get a little claustrophobic. California is great, but she was ready for a little bit of a change of scenery. She’s still in L.A. a lot for different appearances and shoots, but New York feels like the right place to be right now.

It feels like a place where she can be herself, more than anything. She posts a picture taken from the communal rooftop patio of her building, captions it with a cheesy song lyric about the city that never sleeps and puts her phone away.

Instagram is becoming too frustrating to bear, as of late. She’s got a publicist to figure out her social media strategy — yes, she thinks that’s fucked up too — but the shift in image hasn’t really worked too well. Sure, she’s still got seventeen million followers, it’s just starting to feel too hollow and insincere. She posts random outtakes and behind the scenes videos from recent magazine covers she shot, and the occasional Instagram story when she’s out with friends, but the rest is all sponsored content.   
  
Maybe she should set up a meeting with Omar to re-evaluate their approach.

Back in her Disney days, she was contractually obliged to fake date her co-star for maximum buzz, and let's just say she’s never quite recovered from seeing all the fan edits of herself and Samuel, a lovely guy and friend who she’s never even kissed. Watching audiences fawn over them was amusing, but then it became annoying, and when TMZ came out with photos of him kissing Carla in the back of a club, a witch hunt entirely unrelated to the plot of the show began.

At least that distracted from the fact that they were all obviously at a club while underage. A Disney star rite of passage. Lu is actually in the pictures, and that disturbed fans more than anything — how he’s cheating right in front of her. It was fucking hilarious. The three of them had a good laugh about it, and she made sure to tag Samuel in an Insta story the next day that was just a hot poolside selfie with the Carrie Underwood classic Before He Cheats playing.

She spends a week in New York just kind of enjoying herself before the summer humidity becomes too much. Maybe New York isn’t the place to be in July after all. She’s scheduled to be on Kimmel in a few days, and on a whim, she texts her assistant about getting her a flight out to L.A., then calls Carla and asks what the blonde is up to.

Not working on major projects sucks, but having free time for once isn’t too bad.

***

She and Carla met during early auditions for Witchiñera, when they were both just shy of turning fifteen. Back then, Lu was somewhat well known already, the daughter of a renowned Mexican filmmaker, and Carla had told her she’d seen her in that Nickelodeon show where she played the annoying little sister.

It only took them two weeks of screen tests and several sleepovers at each others’ houses to decide to be best friends. When they both got cast in the show, they celebrated with burgers and a trip to the Grove for matching charm bracelets, then vowed to keep each other in check when it comes to dieting and exercising.

Depressing, honestly, how Lu has been seeing a nutritionist since age twelve. Anyway.

“Tell me what life is like on network TV,” Lu prompts, pouring Carla another glass of wine. They’re at Carla’s L.A. loft, and neither of them felt like dealing with fans or photographers, so wine on the couch was the only other option.

Carla is currently shooting some new CW drama, one of those with a mysterious twist — Lu thinks it’s a long lost creepy twin brother or something.

“It’s bullshit. I honestly didn’t think I’d miss Disney, but,” the blonde pauses. “People are such fucking self-involved assholes most of the time. My on-screen boyfriend literally spends all of his breaks in between takes looking at himself in the mirror.”

That makes Lu giggle. She’s pretty sure the guy is some teenage heartthrob who got his big break after posting a couple of YouTube videos.

“Same old shit then.”

Lu flicks her wrist in a practiced manner. They have this inside joke where they pretend to be writing their names in the air with a wand like they did for those Disney intros every single time one of them curses. For a while, they just replaced all language that could get them in trouble with the word Disney, but that got kind of old. (She’ll never forget the epic fight they had about Carla’s inability to commit where she just told her to, “Go _Disney_ yourself,” though.) That’s probably always gonna stay with them — they’re both no longer under contract with Disney and yet cursing still feels odd sometimes.

Lu decides that’s enough work talk for now. They may have met at work, but constantly talking about industry-specific drama gets tiring. Lu really just wants to hang out with her best friend and not think about the untitled HBO pilot she has yet to hear back about.

Carla asks if she’s read any good scripts lately and Lu shrugs nonchalantly. She isn’t gonna jinx herself.

***

The text from Nadia nearly makes her do something embarrassing like scream her fucking face off in her dressing room backstage at Jimmy Kimmel.

_HBO wants a meeting. Chemistry test._

Holy shit. To say she’d given up hope after almost two weeks of dead silence is an understatement. Lu is excellent in person — now that she’s gotten a foot in the door, she can’t see any HBO exec walking away from their meeting thinking she isn’t the perfect choice.

She’s got five minutes until she goes on, and she spends them straightening out her dress, then texts Nadia back the most casual, ‘Ok,’ she can muster.

Jimmy asks about life after Disney, makes a few jokes about the cult of the mouse, and she’s not breaking any clause in her contract when she says, “Listen, of course it feels like a cult. They put my face on lunch boxes.”

When the conversation turns to new projects she’s working on, she dutifully plugs the romantic comedy she’s here to promote, then hints at other exciting things to come and makes a charming joke out of not wanting to say anything specific.

She’s so fucking good at doing press. Years of junkets and interviews and behind the scenes filming will do that — will get you to develop a public persona to slip on and off like a cozy robe.

As luck would have it, she runs into Lena Dunham backstage. Lena’s the other guest on the show tonight and Lu has never met her, but of course she knows _of_ her. She doesn’t expect Lena to recognize her.  
  
“A little birdie told me you’re in talks for Jenni’s new HBO pilot,” she says, grinning at Lu. “You’ve got the energy for it.”  
  
Interesting how Lu herself didn’t even know about that until an hour ago, and yet it’s apparent the woman who might be her future showrunner has discussed the matter with other people in her corner. She's not sure she likes Lena, from what she knows about her, but this must count for something, right?  
  
Lu doesn’t really know what to make of that, but she grins and nods anyway, then tells her she’ll give Jenni her best when she sees her later this week. It’s probably wise to be charming and bold with one of the showrunners’ best friends.  
  
She thinks the way the other woman smiles at her slyly must be a good omen.  
  
***  
  
Chemistry tests are inherently awkward.  
  
Right now, she’s in Century City, at HBO’s Los Angeles production hub. There’s a couch standing in the middle of the room, and even though it’s not quite the figurative casting couch on which she’ll have to sleep with a producer to get cast, it’s probably where she’ll be making out with similarly eager actors for the next hour or so.  
  
They haven’t told her anything about the love interests in her character's life. Lu has a feeling that’s on purpose — that they just want to see whether she vibes with these actors, regardless of the back story.

She doesn’t mind flirting with strangers. She happens to know she’s quite good at it. Really, she just hopes these strangers are equally game.  
  
The first guy they bring in is tall and conventionally attractive, and she’s sure she’s seen him somewhere before. It’s fucking awkward, having a camera in your face and a panel of producers with eyes on you at all times when you’re exchanging hellos with someone.  
  
The guy says his name is Noah — still doesn’t ring a bell — then takes her hand in his and leans in to whisper in her ear. “Your eyes are so pretty.”  
  
God, he’s too much of a sunny boy for her liking. His hair is shaggy and he’s wearing a shirt with some sort of surfing pun on it and… This is suboptimal, but Lu will make it work.  
  
She’s an actress first. She pulls away to smile at him, then bats her eyes a little and runs a hand down his cheek, smirking when she sees his pupils dilate. There’s no script for any of this, but she knows her character is meant to be conniving and manipulative, that she uses her sexuality to get what she wants, so she says, “Darling,” trailing off as she shoots him a patronizing look. Then she leans in and brushes his lips with her own, pulls away again and smirks when she sees his mouth fall open slightly.  
  
See what she means? She’s great at creating chemistry out of nothing. She finds this dude kind of gross, on a subjective level, but that doesn’t mean she can’t channel the exact version of herself he might be attracted to. Well, he’s a man with eyes, so he’s probably into any version of her, but a version of herself which can will herself to pretend the feeling’s mutual. It’s a pretty nifty skill to have.  
  
One of the female producers thanks them, then asks her scene partner to leave and tells the casting assistant to bring in the next person.  
  
She addresses Lu. “With this one, remember to keep your options open. Could be your best friend, could be your nemesis, or maybe just someone you really want to kiss.”  
  
That’s kind of intriguing. Lu loves a good tension-filled on-screen dynamic. This better be good.  
  
A tall girl wearing a pair of ripped mom jeans and a weird black mesh top walks in, and the first thing Lu notices, aside from the really gorgeous teal bra she’s wearing, is her eyes. They’re a vibrant green, kind of brimming with mischief, and Lu is instantly sure this chemistry test is gonna be a lot easier.  
  
It’s always easier to flirt with people she’d actually consider sleeping with in real life.  
  
“Sorry, they told me to dress like myself for this,” the girl says as she plops herself down next to Lu, her hand landing on her thigh. “I’m told my sense of style is not exactly one of my strengths, but I fucking love it, so.”  
  
Lu lets out a hearty laugh. It’s definitely not the sort of outfit she’d ever let herself be seen in, but it kind of works for the brunette. “What’s your name?”  
  
“Oh, are we pretending we don’t know who the other is for this? Okay.”  
  
Wait, do they know each other? She won’t let herself seem rattled, but she definitely is. The confusion must show on her face, because the girl squeezes her thigh and grins. “I was kidding, barbie, god you should’ve seen your face.” She reaches up to whip her braid over her shoulder. “Rebeka. Spelled with a K, because my parents are a SoCal cliché.”  
  
Fine. Lu can be feisty right back. That’s her default mode of conversation, so it takes zero effort. “You don’t strike me as a valley girl.” 

Rebeka smirks, then moves in a little closer.  
  
“You don’t strike me as a Disney princess.”  
  
Lu smirks. Victory tastes so sweet.  
  
“So you _do_ know who I am.”  
  
“Everybody knows who you are.”  
  
Way to make her feel self-important. Lu snorts. “You said it, not me.”  
  
There’s a moment then when Lu thinks they’re gonna kiss. Well, no; where she thinks Rebeka is going to kiss _her_. She’s all up in her space, in a distinctly non-platonic way, and it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, to kiss her now. This is a chemistry test, right? They need to prove that they’ve got chemistry. (Of course they do.)  
  
“You’re staring,” the girl remarks, and Lu decides she doesn’t care about coming on too strong or winning this weird conversation in some way. They need to sell this dynamic. She grabs Rebeka by the braid and tugs her towards her, then kisses her. If she never sees her again, at least she’ll know what that’s like now. It’s not her proudest professional moment, kissing a potential co-star just because she felt like it, but this is the chemistry casting couch; it’s totally a smart move from a professional point of view too.  
  
“You definitely didn’t learn how to kiss like that on Disney Channel,” Rebeka says when they pull apart, which gets them a round of laughter from the producer table. Lu is pretty sure they sold that.  
  
There are a couple more actors and actresses they have her meet, and honestly, Lu is feeling pretty confident about her chances. She’s the one who gets to stay in the room while others are rotated out. That has to be a good thing, right? Maybe some executive somewhere has already decided on her, and now they need to cast others that compliment her.  
  
By the time the seventh and final actor sheepishly makes his way over to the couch, Lu is kind of exhausted. She’s an extrovert, thank you very much, but meeting new people in such a high-pressure setting is difficult. There’s a lot at stake.  
  
The guy looks familiar, his dark curls bouncing wildly around his face, dressed in simple capris and a strangely intricate white embroidered lace shirt. Her ears perk up when she hears him speak.  
  
“Lucrecia,” the man greets, as if they hang out all the time and none of this is weird. That’s… Definitely not right. He sits down next to her, nudging her knee with his and she glares at him the way she would at every person who uses her full name. When their eyes meet she suddenly remembers where she’s seen him before.  
  
That motherfucker. They definitely met at an after-party last year, some Telemundo sponsored thing that Nadia convinced her to attend because it would be good for her brand. She’d been newly single, yet another off-again moment in her pathetic three-year relationship with her fucking personal trainer, and the party was incredibly lame. He’d found her gulping down a martini at the bar, asked why she was so miserable, and it took absolutely zero convincing to get her to follow him to the powder room for some… powdering.  
  
(Coke. She did coke with him. She’s not proud of it, but she was having a fucking terrible time of it, and he was charming and said all the right things. Coke is hardly the worst drug to occasionally partake in at a party; this is Hollywood, she can assure you people do far worse drugs with regularity.)  
  
And his name was…. “Val?”  
  
He nods, that sly grin back on his face, and her eyes flick up to his. He doesn’t look high now. Maybe the little fight they had after several hours of dancing and an abundance of lines of coke was slightly over the top. She’s not sure why she’s thinking about that now instead of just making sure no one in the room will be left thinking they have any chemistry at all. Out of everyone she’s met today, he’s definitely the last person she wants to work with.  
  
“I haven’t seen you since,” he trails off, makes a subtle snorting gesture with his hands and she instinctively leans forward to squeeze his wrist in warning. “Since that event last year. What was it again? Something phony about Hispanic Americans.”  
  
She doesn’t even glance at him when she says, “Latino representation in film and television.”  
  
“Right. Total bullshit.”  
  
She doesn’t know why she scoffs, because really, she agrees with that assessment. It is kind of bullshit. But Lu can’t afford to lose, so she moves a little closer to him and pinches his wrist. God, her competitive nature is going to get her into so much shit someday.  
  
“Thankfully the rest of the Latinx community isn’t as jaded as you. I remember it was quite a lovely night, actually.”  
  
“You sound bitter, Lu.”

If he’s trying to provoke her, she’s totally falling for it. What the fuck is going on? She barely even remembers the camera in her face and the very important people sat just a few feet away from them.  
  
“You sound deranged. Don’t you think it’s nice to see people’s efforts to be inclusive recognized?”  
  
Up until now, he didn’t look like he actually gave a single shit about the topic at hand, but that makes him giggle, his curls shaking with the erratic movement of his head. He covers her hand with his where it’s resting on his wrist, then shoots her a challenging look.  
  
“Sorry, I forgot you fixed racism by playing a Mexican American witch who doesn’t even speak Spanish because spells are hard enough to remember in one language.”  
  
“Oh my god, are you seriously trying to turn this into a political thing?”  
  
“Weren’t you?”  
  
She doesn’t think twice before she slaps him. It’s a light slap, mostly for the audience — see, she totally remembered they’re being watched — and he raises his brow at her like he’s amused by the unexpected impact of her palm on his cheek.  
  
“Didn’t they teach you manners at Disney?”  
  
“Not like you picked up any at—,” she pauses. "Funny, I don’t think I’ve seen you in anything before, actually.”  
  
“Yeah, I wouldn’t expect you to watch movies with substance.”  
  
She’s so into the stupid argument they’re having, she almost misses the distinct voice of one of the executive producers instructing them to kiss. Lu could just peck his lips and call it a day, but she’s worried he might think he’s winning if she does that, so she pulls on his wrist until he’s leaned in closer, then maneuvers around until she’s on her back, her breath picking up when she feels him settle on top of her.

The second he kisses her, she realizes she went about this the completely wrong way. If she wanted to assert dominance and win this thing, she should’ve been on top. Val kisses her in a completely inappropriate way considering the fact that they’re supposed to be acting. The kiss isn’t supposed to make her want to push closer to him, but here they are anyway.

Maybe she needs to get used to this, if she wants to land real adult roles — maybe this is how actors stage kiss when they aren’t being censored by a Disney committee on family friendliness. (Or maybe he just really wanted to kiss her, too.)

He pulls away when a voice tells them they’ve seen enough, and she takes a minute to calm herself down before she sits up and lets herself take him in. The smug look on his face is absolutely infuriating, so he must know how much she liked that kiss. There’s no other reason he’d be this smug. 

“We’ll be in touch,” Jenni, the only producer whose name Lu bothered to learn says and Lu nods, grabs her bag and walks out the door.

Of course he follows her out.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

Lu considers her options. Sure, she could shoot him down and head back to her hotel, or worse, her parents’ house for the night, but she wouldn’t really mind having some fun.

“You’re the reason I could use a drink, so you’re buying.”

She’s got to get some control over the situation back, after all.

***

Everything’s a lot more bearable after a couple of drinks. Honestly, Lu completely gets why so many people in the industry struggle with substance abuse issues; it’s really difficult to know you’re always being watched in some way. Alcohol helps.

They’re at the hotel bar of the place she’s staying at, because they figured the odds of someone catching them here together and taking pictures were slim. He’d been the one to ask the maître d’hôtel for a booth in the back, and he’d just shrugged when she teased him about not being famous enough to have to bother with these things.  
  
She's tipsy, and amused by his overly casual body language. It's been kind of amusing, trying to figure him out. She knows he's second or third-generation American like her, but that's really all she's been able to find out so far.

“But really, tell me what I’ve seen you in.”

He laughs. “I model a bit on the side. Maybe one of my Marc Jacobs campaigns.”

Modeling isn’t a real job, if you ask her, so she’ll brush over that. “What movies? TV?”

They’re sitting on the same side of the booth, a little too close for comfort, and he’s playing with a strand of her hair as he contemplates her question.

“Do you remember that indie orphan movie that got nominated for a SAG out of nowhere?” Lu nods — she vaguely remembers. “I was the orphan.”

Her hand moves to his shoulder. “So you’re one of those weird indie actors who think they’re better than everyone else because they don’t make big studio money.”

“And you’re a money-obsessed A-lister who thinks you’re better than me because People magazine cares what you do.”

Lu purses her lips, then takes a sip of her third (fourth?) martini of the night. “I’m really more of a B-lister.”

He snorts. “Humble.”

“Thanks, I try.”

He’s staring at her. He’s easy to read, probably because he doesn’t bother hiding his intentions very well. If she wasn’t potentially going to end up working with him, she’d just take him up to her room right now.

“What role did you audition for?” He looks a little confused, so she clarifies, “For the HBO pilot.”

“I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you.”

Lu _hates_ not knowing things.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re really fucking annoying?”

“Has anyone ever mentioned that you’re way too hot for Disney channel?”

Such a bad pickup line. She rolls her eyes, then takes the glass of whiskey from his hands for a sip — her own glass is regretfully empty.

“A lot of people have, actually.”

Val nods like he respects the honesty. It’s the truth, anyway — why should she lie?

He leans in impossibly closer, kisses a line from her jaw to her ear and whispers, “Tell me something nobody knows about you,” and it’s cheesy, sure, but she lets out a whimper. He’s got her under some kind of spell. (Insert witch pun... God, Disney has ruined her sense of humor.)

Glancing back and forth between his mostly empty tumbler of whiskey and his eyes, she sets the glass down on the table and reaches for his hands.

“Let’s talk about this upstairs.”

She deserves some fun after the day she’s had.


	2. Chapter 2

It's disorienting, how much she isn't expecting the call. Her phone is buzzing on the bedside table, the insistent vibration of it impossible to ignore in her current state of hazy, light sleep.

It takes Lu a minute to understand what exactly is going on. She’s not hungover, because she didn’t drink enough to get there, but there are definitely a few gaps in her memory.

“Answer the fucking phone,” a male voice grumbles from behind her, and she’s delighted to find she isn’t fully naked when she looks down. At least she didn’t sleep with him.

He’s still got an arm wrapped around her, and when she leans over to grab her phone, he moves with her to ensure she won’t escape from his embrace. It figures. Lu has a thing for clingy cuddlers; for some reason, every man she’s ever taken home ended up being incredibly possessive once they got their hands on her. Maybe she has a type.

Why is Nadia calling her at eight in the morning? It’s eleven in New York, but that still seems odd. She’s usually nice enough to be mindful of the time difference.

“Yes?”

“You sound chipper,” Nadia teases. “Long night?”

“It’s eight a.m. — please spare me the small talk.”

The arm around her waist tightens, a gentle reminder of what she could be doing if Nadia wasn’t pestering her right now. This better be important.

“Fine, maybe I shouldn’t tell you if you’re gonna be an ungrateful brat.”

She can’t just say things like that... “Tell me what?”

Nadia laughs. “HBO wants you for the pilot.”

The scream she lets out is accidental and surprises even herself. Valerio chuckles behind her, then says, “Congrats,” and Nadia is instantly on her about having male company. Sometimes her agent definitely acts like the annoying older sister Lu never had.

“Can I call you back later? I need a minute to process this.”

“If he’s any good, you’ll need more than just a minute...”

Maybe she should find a new agent.

***

She shouldn't be surprised when she meets Omar for drinks back in New York and the first thing he says is, "Hey, some hot guy sent you a DM on Instagram.”

Lu doesn't get notifications for messages from people she doesn't follow and makes sure she doesn't follow anyone who might take advantage of having a direct line to her. And fine, maybe she sometimes doesn’t follow people back out of spite, too.

(Valerio asked for her number last week when she tried to unceremoniously kick him out of her hotel bed at eleven in the morning, after a nice and perfectly civil room service breakfast. They weren’t even naked for it.

“I don’t give my number out to strangers,” she told him, rolling her eyes when he grinned like he thought sleeping in the same bed made them more than that.

“Do you give it out to co-stars?”

Turns out she wasn’t the first to be cast in the pilot. Lu hit him in the chest, then ushered him out of the room and practically threw his clothes at him. Mostly for the theatrics.)

Lu tries to shrug it off. “Hot guys DM me on Instagram all the time.”

“You’re gonna be working with him. I saw his name in that press release about the HBO thing.”

She’s friends with Omar. Not for strategic reasons, though of course it’s convenient for her publicist to know what’s going on in her life, but because he’s a really cool person. He’s Nadia’s younger brother, which is all the more convenient; this way her agent and her publicist will always be aligned on strategy.

Really, she might as well tell Omar about her little moment of weakness. She didn’t actually sleep with her co-star to be — she’s not stupid enough for that — but considering the circumstances, she may as well have. Not to be a Disney cliché and care about silly adolescent stuff like bases, but third base was definitely hit, and if she hadn’t fallen asleep on him, she’s sure they would’ve had sex.

They can just pick up right where they left off when they get to Toronto for rehearsals next month.

“Follow him back,” she tells Omar, because Omar is in charge of her social media. She very rarely interacts with posts or stories on there herself; not unless she’s bored on set and looking through Carla’s latest posts so she can leave heart-eye-emojis under every single one.

Omar lifts his cosmo to his lips, then checks her face for clues as to why she’s being weird. “Have you two met before? He follows you.”

Lu puts on the most angelic face she can muster. “Once or twice.”

The look he shoots her tells her he’s not buying her vague answer even a little.

He DMs her again that night — it’s cute, how persistent he’s being — and if she wasn’t mildly tipsy, she thinks she probably wouldn’t just reply with her number. They’re gonna work together; it makes sense for them to exchange numbers.

***

Val texts her a picture of himself in a gorgeous green satin suit a couple days later, and she’s unsure whether her reply of, _‘!!!’_ , gets her point across. The point she’s trying to make is he looks fucking hot. She’s sure he knows it, too.

_‘Send me a picture of you’_ , he shoots back, and sure, she could go through her camera roll and find a glammed up shot from a recent cover shoot she did, but she’s pretty sure he’s gonna be seeing her in makeup trailers at five in the morning wearing nothing but a petulant frown soon. She might as well ease him into it, so she takes an impromptu selfie, just her on her New York couch with a bowl of cereal and a messy bun and rolls her eyes when he leaves her on read for seven minutes. Not that she’s counting, but...

_‘Sorry, needed a minute alone after that picture’,_ is what he replies, and really, isn’t he just hilarious. Very fucking funny. God, she has a feeling everyone on set is gonna hate them if they’re already bickering like this now. It’ll be interesting to see how that dynamic converts on-screen — not that anyone has even told her who exactly he’ll be playing on the show.

Lu sighs. She’s got two more weeks to prepare for the temporary move to Toronto, where they’re gonna spend about a month in rehearsals before they start filming. Apparently, HBO has picked the show up to season before the pilot was even shot, which is all the more exciting. Lu absolutely can’t wait to find out more about the character she’ll play — in an odd strategic move, she’s only seen the script for the pilot, and no one is willing to tell her anything else. Probably to make sure they can develop organic dynamics during rehearsals, but Lu is too nosy to not want to know right away. Waiting sucks.

It’s the middle of the day, and she has no plans for the rest of it, so she slips on a pair of shorts and a shirt, then grabs a pair of sunglasses and her phone, and when Valerio texts her one of the paparazzi pictures of her walking around Central Park with her Starbucks that night, he says, _‘Good to know this is what you look like when you’re thinking of me’_.

In the picture, she’s laughing at something on her phone, and she doesn’t remember if it was in response to something he said but it’s definitely possible.

_‘That ego will get you nowhere’_ , she shoots back, then spends some time going through her emails on her iPad. 

There’s a few FYIs forwarded by Nadia, some stuff for her to sign related to the HBO project, and she decides all that can wait until tomorrow.

She’s in bed, reaching for her phone to set an alarm for tomorrow when she sees his reply.

_‘It got me into bed with you’_ , is all he wrote, and she sort of wants to strangle him. In a sexual way.

She finds herself unable to sleep for at least an hour after that exchange, and for some reason, she ends up on Twitter.  
  
 _The male ego is vexing_ 🙃  
  
She tweets into the void, for no reason whatsoever. Being mysterious just sounds fun, okay? Her eight million Twitter followers — because who still uses Twitter these days, really — will probably appreciate her insights.

She ignores Omar’s questioning texts when she wakes up the next morning. Whatever. It’s not like she lied.

***

“Carla, calm down,” Lu says. It’s the first thing she could think to say in response to Carla’s rant about relationships and expectations and fame and— that was just a lot of information to take in at eight in the morning. “Do we have to have this conversation now?”

On the other end of the line, Carla lets out a whimper, which Lu knows must mean she’s on the verge of tears. Fuck, she always feels so helpless when her best friend has these unexpected meltdowns. Carla is always so calm and collected and all-around fine until she snaps and emotions overwhelm her; this isn’t the first time.

It’s surprisingly difficult to talk her off the ledge sometimes.

“What if this is gonna blow up in my face? I mean, look at what they did to Ellen.”

Lu will give her that; she’s got a pretty good reason to be freaking out. Unbeknownst to her, Carla was photographed getting into a famous singer’s car after dinner in Santa Monica two days ago. A female singer’s car, Lu should say, and they were clearly holding hands. And smiling, and looked very cozy and… Well, let’s just say the tabloids jumped on it.

“Look, Car, the many gay women of Hollywood have been pulling the _‘Oh we’re just BFFs holding hands’_ thing for as long as paparazzi have existed. You don’t actually have to do anything.”

“Fuck you. Don’t call me that.”

God, Carla can be so frustrating to deal with sometimes.

“Sorry, what term would you prefer? The many _bi-curious_ women of Hollywood. Believe me, it’s all the same to TMZ.”

Carla is quiet for a moment, then takes a deep breath, and Lu hates that they’re on opposite coasts. All she wants to do is drive over there and hug her friend. It’s obvious she’s not doing well if she called her to talk about this at five in the morning L.A. time.

“I’m just tired of having to pretend.”

“Darling, we get paid to pretend. It comes with the territory.”

The blonde mumbles a quiet, “Yeah,” and Lu would feel bad about blatantly spelling things out like that if she didn’t know it’s what Carla must want to hear.

Sighing, Lu says, “Have I told you about my new co-star yet?” because maybe she can distract her a little by talking about how impossible the whole Val situation is shaping up to be. Even if it won’t make Carla’s life any easier, it’ll probably make her chuckle. Lu always wants to make Carla smile.

Carla tells her to send over pictures of the new mystery man in her life — she’d punch her shoulder if they were in the same room, for using such a tabloid-esque term — and when she does, the line goes silent for a moment until Carla laughs.“Not really your type, is he?”

“I don’t fucking know. He’s really annoying, which is definitely my type.”

“He’s just less...” Carla trails off, and Lu braces for whatever she’ll say next. Her friend is a little too perceptive to not hit the nail on the head every single time. “He seems more well-adjusted.”

That’s an oddly tame thing for Carla to say — the implication that Lu’s type tends to be possessive, borderline psychotic assholes is absolutely there, but at least she didn’t outright say it.

“Well, I’m pretty sure I could do worse than him.”

“You say that like you’re gonna _do_ him at all.”

Once upon a time, Lu had rules about that sort of stuff. She’s always been adamant about not dating co-stars, and Carla has always been adamant about how unrealistic that self-imposed rule is. But Lu knows how she gets in relationships — she knows how she feels when they end — and the last thing she’d ever want is to have to keep working with an ex, so co-stars are off-limits. (Were off limits?)

It’s one of the few things they’ve never been able to agree on. Carla dated Samuel for much of their time at Disney, and even now that they’ve broken up, they’re still the kind of friends who attend events together in order to keep the media from speculating about who they’re _actually_ seeing naked.

Diplomatic as always, Lu says, “Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf,” and she’s rewarded with ringing laughter from Carla, so the self-deprecating joke was obviously worth it.

“Maybe I’ll join you,” Carla says, quiet, referring to something else entirely.

Lu knows that isn’t gonna happen. Carla is managed by her father, and there’s absolutely no way he’d ever let her comment on rumors she might be dating America’s most popular up and coming female solo artist. Lu knows he can be controlling, especially when it comes to making sure Carla doesn’t damage her rep. She’s the sultry-eyed blonde girl who dates pretty boys and plays misunderstood beautiful teenagers — bisexuality doesn’t fit into the narrative he’s created for her.

“Just get some sleep,” Lu tells her. “And maybe fuck a few other women to forget about all this.”

The comment has the desired effect, and before she knows it, they’re both laughing out loud, clutching their phones to their ears.

“Go like my latest Instagram post. That’ll make me feel better.”

They hang up, and Lu makes a point out of finding the picture — Carla in a gorgeous white bikini, posing for the camera on some sort of boat deck — and sharing it to her story, heart-eye emojis and all.

Lu is nothing if not loyal. Friends are hard to find in this business; she makes sure to keep the few she’s found close.

***  
  
The thing is, even a year out from her breakup, she still feels lonely sometimes. It’s hard to stop herself from looking around and realizing that everyone but her has someone. It doesn’t even have to be romantic entanglements — she envies Omar and Nadia for having each other, for example; that built-in sibling turned best friend. She envies her friends with boyfriends, and girlfriends, and loving families.  
  
Lu doesn’t want a relationship right now. She definitely doesn’t want her ex back. He was older and controlling, and she shouldn’t have fallen for that stupid grin of his when he hit on her at her eighteenth birthday party, as if he’d only been waiting for her to be of age, but she did.  
  
She wants someone to do life with, though. She liked having… a person to herself. God, she hates how cliché that sounds. Lu is perfectly fine on her own.  
  
If it really is lonely at the top, she doesn’t want to think about what’ll happen when she gets there.  
  
When Carla is in New York for some Burberry ad she’s shooting, they get wine drunk up in her building’s communal rooftop garden and Lu ends up leaning on the blonde’s shoulder, telling her all about how she isn’t equipped to be alone forever.  
  
“I thought _I_ was your other half,” Carla quips, pouring them both a little more wine. They’re currently on their second bottle, and Lu is certain she’s had enough, but she also wouldn’t mind just a _tiny_ bit more. “Or was that just another one of your Disney lies?”  
  
Lu gives Carla an exasperated look. She won’t even dignify that stupid joke with a response; Carla is obviously the platonic love of Lu’s life.  
  
“I just miss that feeling of anticipation, you know? I miss knowing there’s someone waiting for me at home, wanting to hear about my day.“  
  
Carla makes a face, and Lu knows what she’s trying not to say — her ex definitely never cared about her enough to ask about her day. Instead, the blonde throws an arm around her shoulder and grins. “I always wanna hear about your day.” Lu rolls her eyes. “Don’t be like that. You’re the coolest person I know. You don’t need a man to feel complete.”  
  
But what if she does? What if she isn’t as independent and self-sufficient as she’s always proclaimed? Lu feels small all of a sudden. It must be the wine that’s causing all this. When she doesn’t reply, Carla takes a gulp of her wine and sighs.  
  
“You know, I’d tell you to get on Tinder, but we both know how that would end.”  
  
Lu snorts. “Can you imagine the social media outcry? _Former Disney star refuses to date men shorter than 6 feet tall_.”  
  
“You’re pocket-sized,” Carla muses. “I feel like you could totally settle for 5’10.”  
  
Lu immediately thinks of Valerio, who can’t be much taller than that. Their height difference was kind of perfect for… cuddling, amongst other activities.  
  
She can’t say she’s not wondering about whether he might be the one keeping her company soon. There’s a good chance she’d feel less lonely. Less frustrated… Less…  
  
“Can we talk about your love life instead of mine for a change? I’ve got nothing going on. How’s—,“ Carla puts a hand on her arm and squeezes, shaking her head vehemently.  
  
“Nope. Do not say her name. That’s bad luck.”  
  
“So things are going well, then,” Lu says, way too excitedly. It’s nice to think one of them is happy, at least.  
  
“Things are… Going.”  
  
Carla stays the night, doesn’t end up making it back to her hotel, and it isn’t until they’re sitting up against the headrest in bed and Lu’s phone buzzes with a text that Carla flashes her the mischievous smile she wears so well.  
  
“Right,” Carla grabs the phone off Lu’s lap and enters her passcode without needing to take a second to think. “How’s _Valerio_ anyway? Does he live in New York?”  
  
They’re both fucking wasted, so instead of telling her friend to stop snooping, she just cuddles up to Carla and squints at the bright screen, trying to decipher why he’s texting her at two in the morning on a Wednesday. _Does_ he live in New York? Lu racks her brain for the answer but comes up short. They never got around to discussing that.  
  
“Oh, he asked if we ran out of wine. Have you been texting him all night?”  
  
Is it bad that she honestly can’t remember? She nods because it’s the most logical thing to do; if he knows they’ve been drinking, she definitely must’ve been texting him.  
  
And because she’s drunk, and feeling emboldened by their earlier conversation, she smirks at Carla and hits the contact info button, then dials Valerio’s number. “Shhh,” she says when Carla immediately starts giggling. Lu puts the call on speaker. “I’m just gonna say hi.”  
  
He answers on the third ring, which either means he definitely doesn’t live on the East Coast because it’s 2:00 am, or he’s just having a nocturnal moment too.  
  
“You must’ve run out of wine if you’re calling me.”  
  
Carla grins at her suggestively, then covers her mouth with her hand to keep herself from bursting into laughter.  
  
“Where do you live?”  
  
“Wow, you’re terrible at booty calls.”  
  
She giggles, then hiccups, and god, she really is drunk. The drunkest she can remember being in the past few months, definitely.  
  
Carla leans forward and speaks into the phone. “Sorry, Lu is a little wasted right now, this is her friend Carla.”  
  
Anyone else, she’d murder for doing that to her, but Lu figures Carla’s probably sightly more capable of having this conversation right now, so she sits back and lets her.  
  
Valerio laughs. “I had a feeling she might be.”  
  
“Riddle me this. Lu claims you’re friends, and yet she can’t remember where exactly you live. East or West coast?”  
  
Carla’s such a fucking smooth talker. Lu finds herself impressed, even in her current state of inebriation.  
  
“I’m bi-coastal,” he laughs. “Tell her I’m in New York this week for work.”  
  
God. Carla shoots her an absolutely shameless look, then says, “Give us just a second,” and hits the mute button. She pushes at Lu’s shoulder and grins. “You have to meet up. Please let me—“  
  
“No. Carla this—,” another hiccup forces Lu to pause. “We’re gonna work together.”  
  
“Exactly. Get to know him better.”  
  
Lu huffs. There’s no way Carla’s just gonna let this go, so she rolls her eyes and shrugs, and Carla unmutes the call.  
  
“Lu would love to hang out. She’ll be in touch,” Lu laughs at the casual way that came out sounding. “Say goodnight, Lu.”  
  
God, this is humiliating. He’ll never let her live this down. She can already picture them up in Toronto with the rest of the cast, everyone hanging onto his every word when he tells this embarrassing story.  
  
“Night, Val,” she mutters and smiles a little when she hears him chuckle. “And sorry.”  
  
She groans at herself. Sober Lu would never apologize for anything without being coerced into it — he better not get used to it.  
  
“Night, ladies.”  
  
Lu hits Carla in the head with a pillow before she’s even managed to lock her phone. She’s not mad, obviously, because a large part of her definitely wants to see Valerio again but… Talk about forcing her hand.  
  
“I hate you,” she whispers, and Carla scoffs, then laughs out loud. “We need to sleep.”  
  
Getting up at nine so Carla can catch her lunchtime flight is definitely going to suck.  
  
***

When Valerio asked her to meet him at Battery Park, she was sure he’d take her on one of those New York walks people from out of town like to go on. She’s even wearing Nikes — she’ll put up with less than ideal paparazzi pictures today if it means she won’t have blisters on her feet for the rest of the week.

Valerio laughs when he spots her, her ponytail hidden under a Yankees cap, large sunglasses on her nose. It’s part of her attempt to not be noticed — otherwise, they're gonna have to deal with dating rumors before they’ve even set foot on set. That would be a new one, though; Lu’s never actually been rumored to date a person she’s _wanted_ to date.

“So where are we headed?” she asks, batting his hand away when he reaches for hers. She doesn’t want to tempt fate too much. Public handholding is reserved for serious boyfriends only.

“Come with me,” he replies, then guides her towards the Whitehall ferry terminal and wait, what? “Have you ever taken the Staten Island ferry?” Lu shakes her head in disbelief and he grins. “Thought so.”

There isn’t really anything in Staten Island that she wants to see, but Val seems excited, so she lets him buy her frozen custard at Rita’s and settles in on the top deck of the ferry, her legs slung over his knee. They’re the only people up here, probably because it’s the middle of the day, and Lu suddenly thinks this idea was genius. The perfect day out without having to hide from people convinced they recognize her from somewhere.

“What’s in Staten Island?”

He shrugs. “Not much. Kind of thought we’d just take the ferry back when we get there, but at least we can enjoy nice views on the way over.”

He’s different than she remembered. Maybe because they were drunk that night, or because the screen test came with heightened stakes, but he seems less aggressive, less adamant about having the last word at all times. It’s kind of a nice change. Lu is intense enough on her own — she can’t be around similarly minded people for too long without picking fights.

They chat for a while, and then the ferry finally starts moving, the old motor kicking into gear. For a second it’s a little wobbly up on the deck, and Lu grabs onto Valerio’s shoulder to steady herself.

“You can sit in my lap if that’ll make you feel safer, you know...”

She groans, then steals the last bit of custard from the cup he’s holding. “You wish.”

“Maybe.”

“What are you in town for anyway?”

That seems like a safe subject. She should really Google him some time, just to get a better idea of the kind of projects he’s been working on, but for now, she likes the mystery that comes with not knowing everything about him upfront.

“Doing the talk show rounds for this summer rom-com,” he says, and she nods her understanding. “I’m kind of terrible at doing press, though.”

Lu laughs. “Are you really? You seem pretty damn charming to me.”

Bold, but whatever. It’s true. She can tell he isn’t even just being fake humble — he apparently really doesn’t think he’s good at interviews.

“I’m charming when I wanna be.”

Before she can do something reckless like kiss him in public, the ferry slows down as it pulls into the Staten Island terminal, and he grins as he gets up and holds his hand out to her. And fine, Staten Island is barely even New York, right? She can probably risk a little handholding here, in the middle of the day.

Boy was she wrong. They’ve barely made it off the ferry when a young girl and her mother spot Lu and walk on over. Over the years she’s gotten good at anticipating these things — there’s a certain body language kids adapt as they brace to speak to their Disney idols.

The girl is shy, so the mom handles introductions and Lu is nothing if not gracious. She doesn’t have a choice — the internet backlash if she was rude to fans would be unbearable. The girl finally gathers her courage to ask her to take a picture with her, And Lu takes her sunglasses off and smiles for the camera.

They chat for a minute longer, because Lu’s a pro, and she gets the girl to tell her what her favorite episode of the show was. (Everyone always goes for the same answer. The whole Witchcraft Battle of the Bands episode is probably her favorite, too.)

“Who is he?” the girl ends up asking, glancing at Valerio like she didn’t even see him there before.

Valerio grins at the girl, then takes Lu’s hand again and says, “I’m her brother.”

If she could, she’d elbow him in the ribs right now, but that’s not an option. The kid seems to think about that information, then nods, and Lu is absolutely sure this girl has read all the teen magazine profiles about her over the years which have very clearly labeled her an only child. It’s just obvious from the little look the girl shoots her, like her secret’s safe with her.

Valerio finally drags her out of the ferry terminal and over to a few food trucks on the banks of the Hudson, and she glares at him once the fan she encountered is out of earshot.

“Well, at least we’ll know this ten-year-old is responsible if there are rumors.”

“Amazing, that’s totally gonna help,” Lu quips. The skyline views from over here are cool but as stupid as it sounds, she feels a little too exposed out and about. The things she’d give to just blend in sometimes... “Do you wanna take the ferry back?”

“And do what?” He’s reaching for her hand again, and she’s too weak to push him away. His touch feels kind of nice. She lets him pull her close, whimpering when he whispers, “We could make out on the top deck, like teenagers.”

Lu hates how he actually managed to make that sound tempting, not gross. So she nods, then closes the gap between them and pecks his lips, and to her great relief, she doesn’t see anyone with their phone out, taking pictures when they pull apart.

She’s perched in his lap, focused on trying to maintain some semblance of composure instead of letting this get even more indecent when he runs a hand under the buttons of her jeans.

“Val,” she means to warn, but it comes out sounding like a desperate whine. “Stop.”

To his credit, he immediately pulls back, resting his hands on her hip instead. “There’s no one around.”

Lu rolls her eyes. He obviously has no idea how easily this could backfire.

“Just imagine the headlines if we get arrested. They’d fucking never let us live this down.”

He looks at something over her shoulder and grins. “Maybe they could leak the security footage. Hot.”

God, what an idiot. She jumps off his lap and fixes her hair under her baseball cap, then lets herself lean her head against his shoulder as she watches the New York skyline come into view. It’s a surprisingly scenic ride, considering the ferry is free.

Back in the city, she lets him buy her lunch at a bodega, which officially makes this the most casual date she’s ever been on. And... it so is a date, too. There’s no way either of them thinks otherwise.

He walks her back to her place in Tribeca, and to her great surprise, he doesn’t try to convince her to let him come upstairs. Lu supposes there’s different etiquette for daytime dates; maybe they don’t tend to end in sex. Not that she’d mind, but it’s probably wise not to sleep with him. (Yet.)

“You have no idea how badly I want to kiss you right now,” he says as they’re waiting for the elevator in the lobby, and she’s sure her doorman is listening to every word he’s saying, so she pushes at Val’s chest playfully and steps back. She isn’t gonna kiss him again.

She watches him on Fallon that night, where he completely nails the whole charming up and coming heartthrob act, and when Jimmy asks him about being new to the city and ideal New York City dates, Val grins and says, “I hear the Staten Island ferry is free, for any stingy daters out there.”

Shameless. He’s absolutely shameless, and she kind of loves it a little too much.

**Author's Note:**

> find me [on tumblr](http://cupcakeb.tumblr.com/)


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